


The Mahariel Chronicles

by Domileen



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Banter, Dalish Elven Culture and Customs, Dalish Lore, Dalish Origin, Darkspawn, Dream Sex, Erotica, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Smut, Healing, Minor Character Death, Miscarriage, Ogres, Origin Story, Pregnancy, Side Quests, Travel, Water
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-07
Updated: 2016-04-03
Packaged: 2018-05-25 05:52:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 16,188
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6183016
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Domileen/pseuds/Domileen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is the journey of Irina Mahariel, of the Dalish Sabrae Clan, to her rise as the Hero of Ferelden.<br/>Irina grew up under the care of Ashalle, her father was the Keeper before Marethari. Along the years, she grew up to walk the same path as her father, learning old runes, becoming an accomplished herbalist and keeping traditions alive with the incoming generation of the Dalish children. Her life follows the rhythms of the Dalish clan until one event changes her life tragically.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Vir'atishan: The Way of Peace

The light piercing through the tree leaves was shining on the young elven woman’s face. In a gesture, she pulled the cover of her bedroll over her face with a slight moan. Drifting slowly back to sleep, she felt a light touch on her left shoulder.

-“Wake up sleepyhead! The sun has been up for hours lethallan…” said a young man’s voice softly.

-“Just a few more minutes…”, she answered in a breath.

Strongly determined not to get up, she clutched her fingers on the bedroll. Only her long ash blonde hair sticking out of the cover.

-“Not getting up, then? Oh well… I have ways to make you get up!” at these words, he poured a large bucket of cold water over the elven woman. She rose up instantly with an air of disbelief on her face. 

The young man shouted “Ma vir enasalin!” while laughing at her. Looking at her wet bedroll, hair and night clothes, she inspected herself from toes to head then lifted her head slowly and with a grin, she gave him the evil eye.  In one swift jump, she landed on his back, and immobilised his neck with her elbow and his waist with her legs. She was laughing and singing “Ma emma harel” Ma emma harel!” to him. The young man tried to free himself by shaking her off with his hips, she anticipated his movement and let herself slide around his back using his neck and landed against his chest, her face only a few inches from his. 

-“Ma’arlath” she whispered in one breath as she slowly kissed his lips.

For all answer, he just held her tight. After several seconds, they parted their soft embrace.

-“Tamlen, can you put my bedroll to dry? If I do it, I will be delayed to help Paivel with the little ones.”

-“Yes, I will. Just go vhenan, or he will assign you another mission for lost artefacts.” 

Tamlen bent down to pick the bedroll and shook the leaves that were under it. 

 

She put on her long green tunic and brown breeches, then arranged her long hair in a simple side braid. She approached Tamlen and gave him quick kiss on the cheek. “See you this afternoon at the Ghilan’nain’s tribute.”  She started walking away, when he called out her name: “Irina?” - “Yes?”- “Remember you’re to tell the Keeper about Arlath’ven, you know, next month will be a Mythal’s blessed month.” - “I will!”. Irina picked up her pace and hasted her course towards the Dalish camp. A few meters away, she stopped, took a few deep breaths and composed herself a dignified and calm look.  At her sight, the elder, Hahren Paivel, rolled his eyes up:

 

-“Ma serannas! Ma vir sunlahn’nehn!”. 

-“Aneth ara Hahren!” answered Irina with a smile. “Shall I gather the young ones?”

Paivel nodded. Irina stood by the fire and started singing softly then amplifying her voice to a crystal and fresh tune.

 

-“ Tel'enfenim, da'len

Irassal ma ghilas

Ma garas mir renan

Ara ma'athlan vhenas

Ara ma'athlan vhenas.” 

 

At the end of the first sentence, the Dalish children ran towards the fire and sat around, singing along with Irina and their Hahren. 

“Ma da’len, today, you will go through the forest with Irina and gather a collection of herbs to make your first poultice. It is part of your teaching of the Dalish ways. We learn from the ones who came before us so that we can teach the ones who will come after us.” Paivel spoke in a serious tone.

Irina and the young ones spent an hour collecting samples of Elfroot, Spindelweed and Embrium, followed by a lunch of fresh berries and dried meat. The afternoon, Irina taught them how to slice and crush the leaves or roots, how to simmer the concoction and then filter it to make a paste to apply on wounds. As she was helping a child, Irina heard a voice behind her.

 

-“Lethallan? Will you give a moment to discuss a subject of importance?”

 

Irina turned her face and saw the Keeper Marethari smiling kindly at her.  The children, excited to see their Keeper visiting them, asked for her attention, showing her their poultices and plants. She smiled and complimented them. Irina stood up, brushing her breeches from the dirt and let know Paivel that she was leaving for a short moment.

Marethari and Irina walked for a few seconds in silence. Irina knew this moment was coming, she was trying to gather her thoughts staring at the grounds. Marethari spoke first.

-“Lethallan. Next month, we will be heading North for the Arlath’ven, the gathering of clans. It also happens to be a month blessed not only by Mythal but also Sylaise. When you left your da’len status to be Lethallan, you chose the Vir’atishan, the Way of Peace. Like your father, you care for the home and hearth of your kin.”

-“Yes, Keeper. Although I did not know him, I want to honour his memory by preparing for the path that is laid before me.”

-“Your father was a good and kind man, he would be proud of you. He would approve of your incoming bonding too. It is good that Tamlen has taken the Way of Three Trees, Vir Tanadhal. An union dedicated to Andruil and Sylaise.”

 

Irina held in the chuckle that came to her mouth. She had chosen Sylaise because she was naturally gifted with plants and mending arts, but she had no magic flowing in her veins. She remembered the shock of her clan when she refused the vallaslin. She had justified her choice saying that she wanted to honour both Andruil and Sylaise, and that there would not be enough space on her face for both symbols. She instead dedicated to keep the traditions by searching for elvish artefacts, translating the few runes she could find during their wandering and cultivating her secret, blades. She was bearing daggers, like every Dalish. But her love, was a long sword, a sharp and thin Dar’misan crafted by Master Ilen and a dagger that had belonged to her mother.  Had she possessed magical abilities, Irina would have chosen a different path. She had read runes and heard tales at the last gathering about a rare forgotten path, the Dirth’ena Enasalin, the path of knowledge that leads to victory. A mage who would wield swords or a warrior with magical abilities. Alas it was not in her blood to become a First, which did not mean that she did not try to impress Marethari to be chosen instead of Merrill, the other one in the clan that had enough skill to succeed to the Keeper. 

-“Ma serannas Keeper. I suppose it would be agreeable to you if we held the binding ceremony on the incoming full moon?”

-“It would, Irina. It gives you a few days to prepare for the ritual. I have told Tamlen already. Now head off to your watch with him, lethallan. Mythal’enaste!”. 

Irina dashed off to the western part of the forrest where she was to meet Tamlen for their afternoon watch. They would just climb trees or walk along the hidden paths, silent through the trees. That afternoon, Irina and Tamlen swam in the lake, deep within the forrest. Each time Tamlen grabbed her hand, Irina trembled slightly. Only a few days from their binding ceremony. They had spent nights in each other arms observing the night sky, he had whispered words of love and passion in her ears, she had caressed his face, and opened her heart to him. They grew up together, there was no secrets between them. They had contemplated each other body under the moonlit skies, but never gave into their passion.  Irina, growing up without parents, knew very early on whose blood was flowing through her veins. She was a Keeper’s daughter. She was a creature that duty forged and Tamlen was aware of this. He desired her strongly, and although his passion was unconsumed, he took solace in the fact that he would soon marry her and that she would be his forever. 

That afternoon, however, felt different. Irina was wilder than usual, she always had shown caution, trying not to entice him too much, but this time, she was getting closer and closer to him, trying to feign she was a bad swimmer, when he knew her to be a good one. Tamlen just held her in his arms as she was laughing and he kissed her suddenly. Usually she would slowly pulled away but this time, she did not. She let him press his lips upon hers. She felt his hand moving from her right shoulder down to her waist. She brushed through his hair with her fingers and held him by the neck as she returned his kiss. She softly kiss each lips, using the tip of her tongue to lick between his lips, he opened his mouth and welcomed her inside. Their kiss deepened as they held tight onto each other, Irina moved her legs around his waist in the water. She was moving her body up and down his groin, rubbing against him, her face in his neck and letting small moans out. The excitement caused Tamlen to let out a deep sigh:

-“Ma vhenan’ara. Are you sure? It’s just a few more days. I… can try to refrain for a few more days.”

-“No, emma sa’lath, ne’emma lath. Take me. Make me yours.” Irina answered in a desperate moan.

-“Ma nuvenin ma’arlath” Tamlen answered by delicately placing his hands on each side of her face and looked deeply in her eyes. Those eyes of a colour so rare he had never seen anything alike. Eyes colour of the rain, of the clouds after a storm. “I am yours, Irina. Forever. By Andruil and Sylaise, I swear.” 

As Irina was staring at him, she let herself slide onto him in a moan. She had imagined that moment for years, but nothing would compare to this incredible feeling. Here she was, in the arms of the man she loved and promised herself to, and now that this moment had come, her heart was beating fast and she just wanted to scream how much she loved him.  After a few seconds of discomfort where Tamlen just held her against him, caressing her face and kissing her lips softly, she started undulating her hips on him. He responded by caressing her back, placing his hands under her butt cheeks and pulling her closer and helping her movements up and down. Tamlen couldn’t help kissing her lips, licking her ear lobe, running his hands all over her skin, whispering his love for her into her ear. He accelerated his thrusting into her as he felt her twitch and pulsating around his length, he felt as if she was aspiring him inside her. Irina felt a wave of pleasure wash over her, she arched her back and let herself fall backwards on the water as Tamlen was holding her hips while thrusting in and out of her faster and faster. She was trembling and moaning loudly under the effects of her orgasm, Tamlen had never felt anything like this, he felt the pressure growing in his groin, he felt the vibrations of her orgasm on his length, he pushed inside her for a few more strokes until he felt himself exploding inside her, releasing himself deep inside her folds. He stayed sheathed inside her for several seconds while raising her back towards him and kissing her softly, gently and caressing her head. “Vhenan, ma’arlath” he whispered in her ears. 

Tamlen held her close while they lazily swam back to the grass. Once on land, Tamlen laid on the grass holding his hand out to Irina, she seized it and let herself lay next to him, her head on the nook of his shoulder and chest listening to his heart’s beat. Irina felt at peace, letting her mind wander. They stayed like this for an hour slowly talking and whispering to each other, drying up in the sunlight.

As Tamlen started kissing her, visibly decided to have her again, Irina swiftly placed her hand against his mouth, “Shh! Listen…”. Tamlen sat up, straightening his back, listening intently. The forrest felt too silent. He muttered a simple word to Irina “Shems…”. Irina and Tamlen got up and dressed in their gear fast. Tamlen led the tracking, Irina followed in his footsteps, both as silent as only Dalish elves can be. After only a few minutes, Tamlen and Irina found three human men wandering the forrest, they looked panic. Their fear grew when they finally spotted the two young elves threatening them with bows. They came to an halt realising they were in a dead-end. 

One of the man seeing how young they were tried to intimidate Tamlen.

“Let us pass, elf. You have no right to stop us!”

“No? Well, we will see about that, won’t we?” answered Tamlen. “See lethallan? Those humans are lurking about, bandits no doubt”. At these words, Irina could feel her hand clench harder on her bow, clearly angry.

“No no, we aren’t bandits, please, I swear!” replied another man.

“We haven’t done anything to you Dalish, we didn’t even know this forrest was yours” commented the third man.

“This forrest isn’t ours, fool. You’ve stumbled too close to our camp. You shems are like vermin — we can’t trust you not to make mischief” scoffed Tamlen. He turned towards Irina “What do you think lathellan? What should we do about those?” --- Irina pressed her tongue towards the palate of her mouth, inspiring deeply. “What are you doing here?” her voice hissed at the men.

“Look, we didn’t come here to make trouble, we just…found a cave. A cave with ruins like we’ve never seen before. We thought there might be ….” the third man’s voice said.

“Treasure…so you’re more akin to thieves than bandits” answered Tamlen, he continued “A cave? You are mistaken shem, there are no ruins in this part.”

“We’re not lying! Look, we’ve found this around the entrance” said the man handing out a small carved stone to Tamlen.

“Is this elvish? Written elvish?” said Tamlen surprised, Irina took a quick look and nodded to Tamlen.

“There’s more inside the cave. It’s to the west from here. There is a facade and hole that leads inside! Please let us go…” pleaded the man.

Tamlen could see the anger on Irina’s face and decided to end that conversation as fast as he could. He knew how angry city-dwellers made her, humans and city-elves alike. “Just run shems, and don’t come back until we, Dalish have move along”. The three men not asking for more than their lives just ran away as fast as they could. Once Tamlen was sure that the men were out of earshot, he knew Irina would want to see the cave, specially if there was elvish runes and artefacts to be found, he wanted to replace the anger in her face with one of those smiles that illuminated her face. “So they said the cave was to the west? I want to check this out. Let’s go!”. Irina nodded and attempted a soft smile at him.

The two elves started running towards the west, jumping over bushes, moving with grace and agility through the forrest. On the way to the cave, they encountered a few creatures that they disposed of quickly with their bows. Once they reached the designed hole, they paused. Irina looked for carved runes in the walls, Tamlen searched for any tracks of the mentioned demon.

“Vhenan, I can’t find anything that would suggest a demon. What about you?”

“Nothing. It looks like human ruins to me. But I do have an uneasy feeling about this place. Maybe we should inform the Keeper first?” Irina answered with a concerned look.

“Don’t worry, we’ll just take a quick look. No point coming here with a lot of hunters if there is nothing. These shems just angered you, breathe, you’ll feel better soon.”

Irina strapped her bow against her chest, and drew out her long Dar’misan and her wide dagger. She felt on edge, like something was roaming about. She took a few deep breaths, trying to steady her hands. Alike her, Tamlen drew out his sword and readied his shield, “Let’s go vhenan!”.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little elvish lexicon:  
> Lethallan: clan mate (female) / Arlath'ven: gathering of clan (every 10 years)  
> Ma vir enasalin: My (way to) victory / Ma serannas: thank you  
> Ma emma harel: You should fear/dread me / Ma vir sulahn'nen: my (way to) to joy (happiness)  
> Ma'arlath: my love / Da'len: little one  
> Vhenan: my heart / Vallaslin: blood ink tatoo, coming of age tatoo  
> Ghilain'nain: Mother of the Halla / Mythal'enaste: Mythal's blessings  
> Mythal: The Protector Goddess and All-Mother / Emma sa'lath: my one love  
> Andruil:Goddess of the Hunt / Ma nuvenin: as you wish  
> Sylaise: Goddess of Hearth/Domestic Arts / Ma vhenan'ara: my heart's desire


	2. Ma Vhenan Suledin - My Heart Endures

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Irina and Tamlen enter the cave and make a surprising discovery.  
> One single event can trigger the fate of one individual.

Irina and Tamlen descended carefully through the hole to the inside of the cave. Nature had created a rather large passage composed of trees, branches, leaves, large mushrooms and mucus. They stepped onto stones and large branches until their feet touched the ground. They stood still for a moment, contemplating their surroundings, giving their eyes time to acclimate to the darkness. A small ray of light was shining through the hole, bathing the room in a pale blue mist. Drawing out his sword silently, Tamlen decided to press further inside the cave. Irina grabbed onto his arm to stop him and whispered “Look!”. At those words, she knelt near Tamlen’s feet and carefully clearing some leaves, she revealed a rather crude leghold trap. Feeling like a fool, Tamlen backed slightly and waited for Irina to disarm the trap.

“Maybe you should go first, lethallan… just to be ..uh.. safe?” said Tamlen with a dubitative moue.

“Certainly, my courageous and brave hunter!” she answered teasingly. 

Irina noticed two other traps that she disarmed with ease, she also inspected the door but except for the rusty hinges, she saw no other traps. After a little effort, they managed to open the old wooden door. An impressive octagonal room presented itself to them with a large mosaic tile in the centre of the room, they saw a door on each side of the tile, one left, one right. There were no signs in the architecture that would indicate these ruins to be elven at all. The silence was omnipresent giving them the assurance they were alone. However, they felt observed like if a presence was following their movement. As Tamlen was slicing the large cobwebs towards the left door with his sword, Irina crouched to study the large mosaic. It was difficult to make out any meaning out of the runes, time had eroded most of the stone, but she could decipher some of the few intelligible carvings.

“Shiral … vir…iras…seth…” Irina mumbled to herself. She nearly screamed when Tamlen gently touched her shoulder. 

”Ah — you scared me! I was so absorbed…Well, the good news is that it’s not a tomb, I cannot seem to find any reference to Uthenera, but from what I understand, this was a place of passage, a meeting point or a travelling place? Did you find anything interesting?”, she asked as she was straightening her back.

“Well…you are not going to like this lethallan, but … giant spiders; I would wager by the size of the cobwebs and cocoons I found further on the left side of the room. We might find lots of bones too, humanoids and animals.”

Irina shot a panicked glance at Tamlen. She was courageous but for some reason, she just had this deep fear and hatred of spiders. She would not run away from wolves or bears, but the sight of spiders just pushed her to unpredictables reactions. Her mouth let a small sigh out, she cocked her head towards the right side door. Tamlen nodded and they both headed towards the door.  Irina opened the door to a long corridor framed by large branches and trees.

With a breath of relief, she turned towards Tamlen and exclaimed “See? No spiders, much better” — “Irina, vhenan… I know about spiders, but how do do you feel about undead?” — “Not my favourite monster, but they are rare and they only roam where the Beyond is…thin”. Irina whispered the last word, “thin”, “seth”, she had read it on the mosaic. How could she had forgotten about the legends of Falon’din and Dirthamen? 

A cold shiver went up her spine as she heard a not so distant rustle in the corridor and a distinctive clinging of armour rattling against the stone tiles. Irina knew they only had a few seconds before these atrocities would be upon them. She hastily put her hand through her side pockets and took out what look like to be two small balls of wet crushed herbs, she held out her hand, Tamlen seized out and put it in his mouth, Irina imitated him. She took a deep breath and she melded into the shadows, completely disappearing from Tamlen’s sight. She had practiced a lot this useful skill, but usually it was mostly an art of camouflage to escape shemlens, today, she was putting it to use for survival. 

A humanoid form composed of bleached yellowish bones with some remaining hanging flesh and covered in plate armour was dragging a long sword across the stone and approaching Tamlen. He could feel the corruption on the creature, the foul stench of death; he could perceive two red lights on the creature’s skull, where the eyes used to be. The skeleton was slow but hit hard, Tamlen blocked the first impact with his shield on the left hand, using counter weight, he pushed and lifted his shield against the skeleton’s skull in a forceful movement. Appearing behind the creature, Irina placed her blades between the skeleton’s knees and extended her arms, slashing the remaining joints and crushing the bones. Under the sudden attack, the creature fell onto the group; Tamlen bashed it one more time with his shield to crush the skull. Their routine was calibrated and well rehearsed, despite the corruption that made their minds a little hazy, they cleared out the undead from the corridor. 

 

“Whatever is here is angry at us” said Tamlen as he was catching his breath.

“Perhaps, it might also be a curse or simply that the Beyond is thin here, but for it to be that thin, something horrible must have happened here. Spirits are trying to push through. We might encounter more than just undead. Lethallin, we might want to go back now. At least, bring Merril and Fenarel with us.”

“I think you might be right lethallan, we should…— Irina, look at that!” Tamlen pointed at a statue facing them against the wall. 

A large statue with golden wings, carrying a spear in its right hand and a long dress. 

“You recognise this, right? In the time of Arlathan, there were statues like this honouring the Creators. But what is it doing here?”

“I don’t know lethallin, so much of our history has been erased. Wait, do you hear this?” interrupted Irina.

“I…think…I think the sound is coming from behind this door”.

 

Irina and Tamlen carefully and silently walked towards the door, listening. Nothing. They nodded at each other and were moving away as they heard the sound again. A nearly inaudible tingling. Irina tried to look through the cracks inside the wooden door but her eyes could not pierce the darkness. She slowly pushed the door. Once opened, a gigantic mirror was throning on a large pedestal inside a circular room.

Neither of them had ever seen anything so magnificent before. It was tall like four men, encrusted with golden lines and jewels and it seem as if a warm and bright aura was radiating from its core. The base of the mirror was resting inside a intertwine of different branches coming from different trees. It was definitely elven, thought Irina. 

 

“Have you seen it? I can… see something there. There is a city on the other side, underground? Can you see it?” Tamlen was moving closer and closer towards the mirror. He was staring at the mirror like he was obsessed. “I just want to take a closer look.”

“You should move away from it, Tamlen. We don’t know if this artefact isn’t corrupted as well. Please, vhenan, get away” supplicated Irina.

“We came all the way here, just a few more minutes. Did…did you just see this?”

 

A tiny ripple had appeared on the surface of the glass, as if the glass was not solid but fluid, like a pool of crystal clear water. Irina stared at the ripple with a frown. “Tamlen, ma’arlath…” Irina insisted once more, grabbing his wrist and pulling him towards her. Her efforts were useless, his hand was now touching the surface of the mirror, the fluid slowly glistening on his fingertips.

 

“There’s a great blackness. What is it? It saw me! Something saw me! I can’t look away! Help!”

 

A bright light blinded Irina and her body was brutally projected against the wall of the room. When her head hit the hard stone, she fell unconscious. Darkness surrounded her. No dream awaiting her. She opened her eyes for a second, her vision was blurry, she clearly was disoriented, a shemlen was bending over her, an older men with a clean cut black beard, the words he spoked were meaningless. She fell back into the abyss. 

 

“Where am I? Why does my body feel so heavy? There is something soft under my head.”. Irina’s thoughts were twirling inside. She had difficulty focusing. After mustering her courage, she opened her eyes. She was laying on a bed. A furtive look around her informed that she was inside the Keeper’s tent. Was it all a bad dream? Did she ingested too much prophet’s laurel? These plants if badly dosed could cause grave hallucinations. “Poor Tamlen" she thought, “he must be worried sick about me”. After what felt like an hour, she managed to place her feet on the ground, she felt it took her even longer to stand up from the bed. She dragged her body towards the exit, she was met by her kinsman Fenarel. 

 

“Are you feeling better lethallan? You’re back at camp, everyone is worried sick about you.”

 

Irina realised she didn’t dream. What about Tamlen? 

 

“And Tamlen? Where is he? Is he alright?” asked Irina in distress.

“We don’t know. The shem that brought you said that he saw no sign of him” answered Fenarel. “And he was alone when he brought you back here two days ago”.

“Two days?! I’ve been here for two days! Have you sent someone to rescue Tamlen?”

 

Two days, she thought. He …he was…probably. She couldn’t finish this sentence in her head. Acknowledging it would make it true.

“The shem was a Grey Warden. He brought you back and then ran off again, the Keeper used the old magic to heal you.” Fenarel continued.

Old magic? So the mirror was corrupted. 

“The Keeper said to warn her as soon as you were up, I’ll go tell her, just stay here.”

Irina let herself slide onto the wooden bench next to the Keeper’s tent. She felt her hands tremble. She was struggling to keep her tears inside. Her eyes were staring at the grass below her feet, she realised the Keeper had arrived when she noticed the other pair of feet. She lifted her head and looked at the Keeper. Delicately, Marethari took Irina’s hands in hers and spoke softly.

“Da’len, what happened? The Grey Warden, Duncan said that he found you unconscious outside a cave and alone. Where is Tamlen?”

“I don’t know Keeper. There were those ruins, and we fought some undead and a mirror…but it was evil, corrupted. I wanted to leave, Tamlen touched it. That is all I remember.” 

Irina felt the struggle of articulating her words, like if her throat was filled with sand, her tongue apathetic. Marethari sat next to her and remained silent for a while. Each second felt like hours to Irina. When Marethari spoke again, Irina felt her heart was about to explode.

“Da’len. The hunters are searching for the cave now but they do not know its location. I want you to take Merrill and go back to look for Tamlen.” Marethari said as she gave Irina a gentle squeeze on her hand.

Irina stood up. Certainty was better than doubt, she thought. She walked across the camp with great strides to look for Merrill when Fenarel caught up with her. She didn’t need to ask why. Although Fenarel and Tamlen were not brothers by blood, they grew up together, and their bond was as strong. He held her hand firmly as they walked. Near the exit of the camp, Merrill was waiting, her back leant against a tree. Her short black hair had a small braid on the side and her new fitted green tunic accentuated her pointy chin. She greeted them with a kind smile. She felt Irina’s pain and was not sure what she could do to ease it.

The three of them moved at a fast pace through the forrest. Irina was leading them, she was listening and trying to gather her memory as she attempted to retrace the path to the cave.

Eventually, half an hour later, they all descended through the hole. The cave was clear of monsters. Irina recognised the corridor where she and Tamlen had fought the skeletons. She crouched next to each of them, trying to see if her companion’s body was among them. She found nothing. When they reached the room with the mirror, a tall men with silver armour and white tunic was facing it, turning his back to them. The man turned and looked at them. He spoke in a clear, distinguished manner. His voice was calm, poised and confident.

“Ah, I see you have recovered.”

“Aneth ara Grey Warden. I am Merrill, first of the Keeper. Have you found our companion Tamlen? We are looking for him.”

“I understand, but I am sorry to tell you that your companion will not be found.”

Irina inhaled deeply, her nostrils trembling. Not. Be. Found. The words resonated in her mind.

The man looked at Irina and perceived her emotion. 

“I am sorry but even if he was alive, he couldn’t return to you. This mirror is corrupted, tainted by the darkspawn, and so is he now.”

Darkspawn? Was there any creature that incarnated evil more than those filthy things? And now, her Tamlen, her childhood friend, her companion, her best friend, the love of her life had been tainted by the same evil? 

The Grey Warden turned his back again and faced the mirror, he drew out his large sword.

“What are you doing??” gasped Merrill loudly.

“The world must be rid of its evil. It has already claimed your companion.”

“But there is so little left of our heritage. Can we not save this so we can study it?”

“You would have to cleanse this place with fire first. And even so, the mirror would still be corrupted. It has to be destroyed.” said the man in a firm manner.

 

Merrill clearly disagreed, but she knew her place was not to contradict a Grey Warden in matters of darkspawn. She knew that much. Irina wished it was her hand holding that sword, approaching the mirror, slashing it and crushing it to oblivion. As the glass shattered, she felt her extremities grow cold and an intense warmth in her stomach. She stared at a piece of glass laying on the ground beside her. She passed out.

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

A voice. Singing. Was that her voice? She could hear the voice of her friends, of her clan singing along her. When did she wake up? She was the singer. She sang near the fire. Her voice clear and crystalline as usual, only the tears running freely on her bleak face revealed the state of her heart.

 

“ _Lethallin na melana sahlin_ \- companion your time has come

_emma ir abelas_ \- for now I am filled with sorrow

_souver’inan isala hamin_ \- weary eyes need resting

_ma vhenan vir suledin_ \- my heart will endure your passing

_in uthenera na revas_ \- the deep sleep is freedom

_vir sulahn’nehn_ \- we sing

_vir dirthera_ \- we tell the tale

_vir samahl la numin_ \- we laugh and cry

_vir lath sa’vunin_ \- we love one more day.“

 

Earlier that day, she had agreed to follow the human Grey Warden Duncan. She also was tainted by the corruption and not even the old Dalish magic could save her. She just accepted the decision, she didn’t fight it. She was resolved and felt empty like a shell. There was no body to give back to the earth for her love. She planted a birch tree in the ground where the body of Tamlen should have been laid to rest. She knelt in the fresh dirt. With her right hand, she seized her mother’s dagger, her left hand gripped her long braid. In one swift gesture, she cut the braid from the neck. The long braid of golden ash blonde hair was placed in the dirt with the roots of the young birch tree. 

After the farewell ceremony to Tamlen, she gave one final embrace to the friends that she grew up with, one last embrace to Ashalle, who had been like a mother to her. The woman that took her in, nursed her, taught her the path of the hearthkeeper Sylaise. When she arrived to the last person to say her farewell to, she stopped and sobbed in his neck. Fenarel who was thiner than Tamlen did not falter and held her tight against him.

“You were his love Irina. Lethallan, he had always loved you. Last month, he had Master Ilen make this for you.” 

Fenarel placed a ring in Irina’s hand. The design was intricate, it was made of silverite with encrusts of Ironbark lines. She recognised the symbols of Sylaise and Andruil, both intertwined with each other, reunited the twin sisters into one band. A promise ring. The promise of love through the years. 

She thanked him with a small voice. “Ma serannas lethallin.” She gave him one last squeeze on his hand. She marched towards Duncan. She turned her head one last time to look at the faces of her clan. The only life she had ever known. She was leaving. 

Today she left to become a Grey Warden. 

Today was the day she would have married Tamlen.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Dalish Eulogy is somewhat adapted to fit the story better, replacing the word Hahren "elder" to Lethallin "companion/kin".
> 
> If anyone wondered, the small balls of wet crushed herbs are Nature Resistance salves.
> 
> Music playlist: First part of the chapter: 
> 
> Loreena McKennit - The Mystic
> 
> Tamlen's furenal and Irina's departure:
> 
> Loreena McKennit - The Dark Night of the Soul


	3. Lothering to Lake Calenhad

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Irina and her new companions have taken upon the quest of defending the land against the Blight. It takes a while for bonds to form between people. Their time spent travelling allow them to explore their relationships. And Morrigan discovers something.

The sounds coming from outside the tent informed Irina that her travelling companions were already up and about. She had never been fond of leaving the comfort of her bedroll. A foul smell invaded her nostrils and dried up her throat forcing her to sit up and cough. An amused voice spoke from outside, “Ah! I hear that our fearless leader is finally awake,” the voice laughed longer, then it was followed by a panicked “Maker!” and ended with a litany of curses. 

That did it. Irina exited her tent, stretching her arms, scratching her head and yawning. The scene in front of her eyes had become a near routine these days.

It had been a month since she left her clan and followed the Grey Warden leader Duncan to Ostagar in the Korcari Wilds. That battle had been a disaster, the darkspawn ravaged the area. Duncan died in the battle alongside the King. What she knew about the circumstance could fit in only one short scroll. The king’s general, Loghain Mac Tir, left the battlefield, which apparently was not the intended strategy. Furthermore, the only other person that survived with her was a fellow grey warden named Alistair that she had barely met. And he was a human. She did not resent him but he was very foolish and had a tendency to speak without thinking. It seem as if silence was a flaw and not a virtue to him, but he seem to have a good heart and was genuine in his intention to save the land against the growing threat of the Blight.

The Blight. The notion was not something very easy to formulate. It had been more than four hundred years since the last one. As an elf, she sensed and felt corruption deeper than any other humanoid race in Thedas; as a grey warden, she was connected to it. She had taken the darkness in. That simple idea was contradictory to her, the corruption she contracted with the mirror was darkness. So the only way to save her was to ingest more darkness. It made no sense to her, but it had saved her life, or rather temporarily extended it. 

During the last month, Irina had been on the threshold of death many times, yet she survived. Even when she threw herself in the face of danger, without fear of pain or death, her recklessness did not get her killed. She had been longing for an end since the passing of Tamlen. She felt as if the Creators had abandoned her. Her fellow grey warden, Alistair, was a pious Andrastian. He often spoke of the Maker, the templar training and the discipline, that there might be a purpose behind all of this chaos. He talked about it with a profound and respectful faith, he did not sound like a zealot, he did not even try to press Irina into his religion. She thought that perhaps he just liked to voice out loud his fears and hopes. During those conversations around the camp’s fire in the evenings, everybody shared a little of themselves, trying to build bridges despite their differences, cultural or religious. The only ones who did not share much, were Irina and Morrigan. Morrigan scoffing most of the time at Alistair’s claims and stories or shaking her head in disbelief.

Unlike her other companions, Irina did not dislike Morrigan. She found her comforting in her silence. She did not like the tone of superiority, but she understood why she was behaving in this manner. While she thought that the sweet release of death had finally come to her on top of the tower of Ishal during the Ostagar battle, Morrigan’s mother, Flemeth, the Witch of the Wilds had rescued her and bandaged her wounds.  The name itself, Flemeth, inspired Irina a deep respect and a fear that only people truly aware of power can comprehend. Asha’bellanar, the woman of many years. While growing up, she had heard the stories and legends of her people about Flemeth. Unlike the humans, the Dalish did not believe into a Witch of the Wilds. They knew that Flemeth was more than she seem to be, that she had lived for centuries, that she protected her people if the humans were hunting them in the Wilds, she also possessed a very deep knowledge and understanding of the Dalish customs. 

Thinking of her clan and her friends, of…Tamlen, Irina felt her eyes swell up. A delicate hand on her right shoulder interrupted her train of thoughts. She turned her head to see Morrigan looking at her, with a neutral expression. No words were spoken, Irina just nodded. Morrigan smiled slightly and headed towards the fire camp where the other companions were sitting. Irina saw how Morrigan just looked at what was in the cooking pot, pinched her nose and called Alistair “a fool”, that if they all died of poisoning, the Antivan assassin would not be blamed. Irina shrugged then chuckled and joined the party. As she was approaching, Alistair gestured her to come closer, that he had made breakfast. Her eyes grew wide, her left eyebrow lifting with a crooked smile - “Oh, did you now? Well that is very helpful, “ she bent to look at the content of the cooking pot and “Elgar’nan! What do you call this?? What is this brown dark mass?” gasped Irina.

“Well it’s a mushroom stew! A Fereldan specialty! The brown is… for colouring! It gives extra flavour!” defended Alistair.

One of her newest companion, a large Qunari named Sten, claimed in a low and deep voice that the Qun was all the food he needed today, that it was good to sometimes…abstain from material need. He would wait until he felt his soul was ready for a meal, which would probably be when Irina would cook. Alistair looked as if he was about to cry, then grabbed the pot with his legs, sat near it, took out a large spoon and with a pout said “Fine, I’ll just eat it all alone then! You just are ignorant in the ways of Ferelden haute cuisine!” and with that took a large mouthful with his spoon and placed it in his mouth. 

“Now now, my dear friend Alistair, I shall not abandon you in this nefarious quest. I will help,” said the Antivan elf. At these words, he sat next to Alistair and attempted to eat from the pot.

Irina chuckled once more. She was not sure what to make all of these new persons in her life. She appreciated their company but in small amounts, she was still mourning and felt an incredible guilt whenever she felt happy, like she had forgotten him or where she was from. She moved towards Sten and sat beside him. Discretely, she opened a leather pouch from her belt and took out what seem to be a roll of leaves and placed it in the lap of the Qunari. He nodded at her. Irina liked this man, he was so honour-bound, she felt a deep respect for him. She had never met one of his kind before and was curious but she soon realised that he disliked being probed with questions.  Irina took a roll of leaves for herself and started eating it. These rolls were the equivalent of a dessert for the Dalish. A sweetened elfroot leaf roll with honey filled with crushed blueberries and blackberries in them. She was surprised to discover that Sten liked those sweets but she wanted to be kind to him and always had some with her, for occasion like this particular morning where Alistair had decided to be helpful.

A week before, they had passed through the little village of Lothering where her clan would sometimes trade goods. The villagers were not hostile and some were even kind. Some of the older women there were appreciative of Ashalle and Irina, and their help in mending the sick. Master Ilen even exchanged crafting tips with the smith. There was also a friend she had made while she was younger, Stella; who was about her age. Stella had a little brother and sister that she would also play with sometimes. But when Irina was in Lothering, she couldn’t find her friend nor her family, she also learnt that the father had passed away. Irina assumed Stella and her family had fled from the Blight. It was in Lothering that she met Sten, and recruited to her cause a Chantry sister or whatever she was, called Leliana. And now at the head of a little band of adventurers, she was on a quest to rectify wrongs and save an entire country from the Blight. “Pure and sheer Madness!” thought Irina.

Sat on a branch up in a tree, Irina was studying Ferelden’s map. She had decided to ask for help from the mages at the Circle of Magi near Lake Calenhad. They were about two days away, from her estimation, but that was only if they followed the path of the Imperial Highway. She didn’t like the idea to be travelling so exposed to ambushes. They could try to find a boat that would take them there instead but the cost might be more than what they could afford at present. Shrugging at her lack of possibilities, she resolved that the Imperial Highway would be their route. If they pressed their pace, they might even arrive sooner and spend the night at the Spoiled Princess Inn. She rested her back against the tree, closing her eyes and slowly humming to herself. This tree felt comfortable, she felt safe, her mind drifted and fell asleep. When Irina woke up, she felt a presence near her. She did not open her eyes, waiting for the presence to move.

“My dear warden, no point in deceiving me, I can see you are awake now. I have come to inform you that the camp was packed and we were ready to leave. I wouldn’t want to intrude, actually no, I would, the others do not see but I feel you are unwell. Should you not talk to someone, no?” - the only other elf in their group, Zevran, was staring at her, his eyes trying to read her.

“I’ll think on it Zevran, thank you. I am ready. Let’s go,” she announced and climbed down the tree along with Zevran. 

The rest of the travel went without issues, just the regular banter and chatter. There were so many refugees on the road, each new face reminded her of what was at stake. Irina deeply inhaled and forced her stride, pressing the group to walk faster. Finally, on the horizon, a tall white tower appeared, the afternoon’s sunlight reflecting on the stone.

The following night, the group arrived at the Spoiled Princess Inn near the Lake Calenhad main docks. A good night sleep on a real bed would be a treat, opinion that most of her companions shared. If Zevran, Alistair and Leliala decided to drink an ale and discuss in the main room of the Inn, Morrigan retired for the night, Sten remained outside the inn as he disliked the curious looks that the other patrons were giving him. Irina listened to the chatter of her companions, not participating, she felt so weary and tired. She knew she shouldn’t feel this way considering the task at hand but it felt as if her body was being drained of its strength.

“I’ll step outside a moment, I just need some fresh air…,” Irina stood up and walked out the door. Not far from the inn, she could see Sten standing in the night, looking at the moon light reflecting on the dark waters of the lake. Irina walked to him and stood beside him silently. Sten cleared his throat, he visibly wanted to say something but was struggling. Irina waited patiently.

“I have come to see you are unlike other humans or elves I have met. You do not waste your words. You follow a code of honour. I will see how you will accomplish what you say you will. But this moment is not there yet, you should rest Warden.”

Irina thought that this might have cost a lot of pride from Sten to say these things to her. She was grateful, and she was about to thank him when she felt her stomach flip, like a hard blow hit her belly. She fell onto her knees, her mouth opened to scream but no sound came out. She started shaking, falling forward, she used her hands to hold onto the ground. It felt as if someone was ripping her entrails out, she gagged once, twice and finally, she threw up.

“Warden?” Sten turned to her. He simply ran inside the Inn, reappearing seconds later with Morrigan.

Morrigan knelt next to Irina, placing her hand onto her back. A light pale blue glow emerged from her hands. Irina felt the pain vanishing from her body, just a strong nauseous feeling remained. Morrigan helped Irina walk back inside, crossing the room, the other companions who were drinking stood up at once wanting to lend a hand. Sten dismissed them with a hand, following after Morrigan and Irina. Laying on her bed, Irina felt a fever coming over her. Morrigan was keeping her forehead cool by applying a wet cloth and from another hand gliding her hand over her body. When she stopped over her lower abdomen, Morrigan raised an eyebrow and focused her mind. 

“My friend, I know we have not spoken of your past so much but it would seem as if the past has caught up with you. You are with child.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was mostly written listening to the Dragon Age: Origins original soundtrack. The Korcari Wilds, The Dalish, The Party Camp and Leliana's song.


	4. Iras Ma Lath Inan - Where My Love Belongs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Irina and her companions finally reach the Kinloch Hold, but as usual, everything needs fixing. They take upon themselves to salvage what can be from the Circle of Magi. In the Fade, Irina makes a dramatic encounter...

Irina opened her eyes wide and blinked a few times at Morrigan. She was …pregnant…with Tamlen’s child. She…he…a part of him was still with her. He did not abandon her. Creators! Mythal and Sylaise be blessed! Realising what this would mean for her quest and other companions, she seized Morrigan’s hands in hers, 

\- “You cannot tell anyone, Morrigan! I will continue as before and we will go on as long as it’s not showing too much. When the time comes, I will talk to them, but not before.” 

\- “Agreed. By the tone of your voice, I see your intent to keep the child. I may not understand why but I will do as you say,” Morrigan replied with a firm voice.

When morning arose on Lake Calenhad, the group met in the common room of the Inn. Alistair and Leliana were nearly hovering over Irina, trying to perceive what illness afflicted her with their gaze. They didn’t speak but their concern was feeling like an added weight over Irina’s overburdened shoulders.

-“Will you two please desist? I am fine, I was just tired. I am sure this is one of those effects of joining the Wardens that Alistair mentioned before.”

-“Well, you may be right Irina, but…” started Alistair.

-“If your fellow Warden says she is fine, I will take her word for it,” finished Morrigan.

Shortly after breakfast, they departed the Inn towards the docks to take a boat to the Kinloch Hold, the Circle of Magi tower. And as if everything wasn’t complicated enough, it would seem as if everything was getting in their way, intensifying the difficulty of each task they encountered every time they attempted to accomplish something.  First, Sten had to bribe with cookies the abysmal idiot templar that stood on the docks, which made half the group chuckle while Morrigan and Irina just shook their head in disbelief that it was possible to be that ignorant.  Second, when they finally reached the tower, the mages had succumbed to blood magic and abominations were running amok among the corridors and halls of the tower.

After defeating more of these abominations and mages, the group confronted a demon of Sloth, the creature was tall and disfigured, twisted in its purpose, appearing monstrous and made of tendons, putrid flesh and bloody limbs. Irina had heard of these things from her Keeper warning Merrill against the temptations and offers of Spirits that she may encounter in the Beyond while dreaming. She wasn’t sure on how to attack or kill a demon with physical weapons. And the demon had barely started to speak, that she felt drowsy and her legs collapsed under her. The elder mage that had accompanied them was a spirit healer but still succumbed to sleep, as as well as her other companions. Irina desperately tried to remain awake despite the torpor falling over her, “I can’t sleep, not right now…”; the spell was too strong, she fell asleep as her face hit the blood drenched stone floor of the tower.

As her eyes opened, Irina felt as if she was floating, still feeling dizzy. The light was colourful and bright, she was no longer in the tower. She gathered her strength and stood still for a moment, turning her head to contemplate her surroundings. She saw a humongous hall inside a large temple or abbey, maybe a stronghold. It felt like a very old building, the architecture was definitely foreign, but it was as if the stones in the wall were singing to her of memories. In the distance, atop a small flight of stairs was a figure she recognised. She ran towards the figure and stopped short, catching her breath. She brushed the hair from her face with her right hand, her eyes opening wide and starring at the dark man in the silver armour. She tried to speak but the words dried up as they resonated in her mouth. “You… Duncan… But you’re supposed to be dead!” gasped Irina.

The man’s face illuminated with a large smile, creasing the wrinkles around his eyes,

“Me dead? Oh no, I was very near many times, but I am still alive! So what do you think of our fortress of Weisshaupt? It shall be a testament in history of the Wardens’ contribution to history in the defence against the Blight.”

“You seem…content and your voice is different,” pondered Irina. 

“I have learned to be Tranquil. I was a man forged in the times of war, I now find myself at peace,” Duncan declared in a blank emotionless voice.

“I… have to leave …right now,” stated Irina, something was off, it didn’t matter how strange this place felt, she knew it was a lie. The vibrant colours and singing stones of memories were indications of her dream state, she was in the Beyond, or the Fade as the shemlens called it. She turned her body in haste to look for a door or any form of escape route when she felt strong hands reaching and holding her shoulders fast preventing her movement.

“You are not going anywhere. You will remain here,” the voice added with a vicious glare.

Breathing in sharply, Irina backed her head into Duncan’s face in one violent gesture to destabilise him, fell to her knees, seized her daggers; in one swift movement, she grabbed his ankle and using it as a pivot, she turned around him, slicing through the tendons of his knees, rendering him incapacitated. As his body hit the floor with a loud noise, she slit his throat. What now laid on the ground was no longer the body of Duncan, but a large pool of black and viscous substance. She backed away from the pool which appeared to spread, closing dangerously near her feet when she heard a familiar voice, “lethallan…”.

“Tamlen?” asked a worrisome Irina.

“Come find me lethallan, come find me my heart,” repeated the voice.

Irina closed her eyes and focused on the voice. She felt as if the sounds around her were distorted, a low rumble blocking the higher notes of his voice. The rumble gave the impression that the voice was coming from everywhere. Irina felt a pull in her chest. There. In the corner of the hall, there was a faint absence of sound. Irina approached it carefully, the closer she moved towards it, the closer she felt the silence. She stood short of a few inches from the wall, she softly press her hand against the stone. It felt warm under her touch, not hard and cold, her fingers shuffling through the stone into something light and aerial, like a small gush of a warm afternoon wind. Irina pushed further in, as her face came closer to the wall, she took in a deep breath and closed her eyes then carried forward until she felt her entire body in the gush of wind. Once she went through the wall, her face was met with a fresh breeze. She opened her eyes anew and the scenery had changed to a verdant and peaceful clearing that reminded her of one of the favoured place her Dalish clan used to camp at. The trees looked the same, even the warm breeze of a lazy summer day felt similar. Was this a memory? She slowly wandered about the clearing, she noticed a few hallas beneath the trees, the familiar singing of birds and … a known silhouette beneath the tree patting a halla’s neck. When Irina caught a glimpse of the figure in the distance, she ran as fast as she could, hoping with all her heart that it wasn’t a trick played by the Face, but it was him. She stopped at arm’s length from him, afraid to approach, afraid he would vanish if she came any closer to him.

“Ma’lath? Tamlen? Are you real, are you a figment of my imagination?” asked Irina with a little voice, wondering if her words would dissipate the magic behind the conjuration of her beloved one.

“I am real, I am in your heart Irina. I am always with you. I have been waiting for you,” answered Tamlen’s shape.

“Are you there because you are still alive or because you haven’t followed Falon’din to the Beyond yet? I miss you so much ma’lath,” said Irina with a trembling voice, her body shaken by long contained sobs that had sought release for a long time. “I…I am trying so hard to be strong and lead these people, so much depends on me. Lethallin… my…no…I…we…,” Irina kept on stumbling on her words, “…our love has produced a child, I am pregnant ma’lath…,” Irina whispered the last of her sentence, nearly inaudible, but knowing Tamlen would discern the meaning.

In a imperceptible gesture, Tamlen extended his right hand to delicately lay it over Irina’s lower belly, he took her left hand in his and softly inclined his forehead against hers. They stayed like this for a long minute without speaking, just slowly breathing. He moved his right hand from her belly to wrap around her waist and pull her closer to him, burrowing his face in the nook of her neck and shoulder, humming through the vibrant perfumes of the Fade. Irina let a few tears roll down her face, she knew she was dreaming and should have been sad at the idea that Tamlen’s soul endured in a way, he had not yet passed through to the Beyond. She knew that eventually she would have to release him, but she wanted to enjoy his presence a little more, not ready to let go just yet. Removing the few hairs covering her ear, Talent whispered “Your body is withering vhenan, you should find the Sloth demon and your companions then leave, your time hasn’t come. Fight for us, now go!” as he finished these words, Tamlen pushed her away from him. 

Shocked by his reaction, Irina opened her eyes to only realise that she was back in the large hall of Weisshaupt fortress.

The path was laid out for her then, she would not feel alone or defeated in the Fade, Irina clenched her fists and headed towards the luminescent pedestal on the stone platform ahead of her. Releasing her companions from the dream state and defeating the Sloth demon came as a simple reflection of her thoughts, even defeating Uldred felt easy afterwards. Gaining the mages’ allegiance was a simpler formality afterwards, the only task she felt painful was this poor survivor templar that had been tortured by the abominations, Cullen. She felt pity and wished she could have comforted him with her friendship but time was pressing upon them. At least, she hoped that their impending mission would have an easier development once they reach the Dalish clan in the Brecilian Forrest, she knew them well and they had been steady friends of her own clan, the Sabrae. Their Keeper Zathrian had been an intimate friend of her father during his time as a Keeper. The group would take a day to rest and restore their provisions then follow the Imperial Highway to the Brecilian Forrest, hoping they could avoid the bulk of the Darkspawn horde that had recently ravaged the little village of Lothering. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dragon Age Origins - Mages in their Chantry  
> Dragon Age Origins - I Am The One (Dark Fantasy version - in elvish)  
> Dragon Age 2 - Rogue Heart


	5. Mala Halinan Numin : Your Glorious Tears

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Irina and her companions have reached the Brecilian Forrest. Visiting her father's old friend, Varathorn, may reveal more than Irina would want to share. Alistair's discussion with Zevran turns out differently than what he expected.

Glorious trees! Glorious forrest! Glorious sunlight through the trees’ leaves! Glorious fresh grass beneath her bare feet! Glorious fresh water to play in! Glorious breeze flowing through the hair!

Irina jumped up her hands in the air exclaiming “It’s all perfectly glorious!”, laughed and let herself fall backwards in the grass, with her bare legs hanging in the fresh waters of the waterfall her companions and she had encountered at the entrance of the Brecilian Forrest.

Quite perplex at the reaction of their usual silent and taciturn leader, the group turned their head to her; some flabbergasted, some smiling in surprise at this unexpected event, some simply…ecstatic like Alistair who just jumped into the water making a large splash when his body impacted with the water, a portion of the water falling over Irina and Zevran who were sitting side by side on the shore of the pool of water. If Zevran has gotten slightly wet onto his shirt, Irina was drenched, her shape now clearly visible to the small group.

Alistair couldn’t help staring at his fellow Warden; if he had previously imagined how she had looked without clothing, he had no longer any doubt about the curves of her hips or the delicate contours of her breasts. Feeling his entire face flush upon his arousal, he chose to retreat with his dignity between his legs by diving into the water and swimming farther from her.

Zevran on the other hand, placed his left hand over Irina’s shoulder, tilted his head to her, “My dear Warden, you are sublime! Why have you been hiding such a lovely figure under this ugly armour of yours? I see that you are tensing up, I am an expert at relaxing tensed muscles, I could provide my services to you and …Aaaah! What you are doing?”, Sten had grabbed Zevran by his arm and was pulling him up, and in one swift movement, had thrown the Antivan elf into the cold waters. Irina lifted her head to look at Sten who simply put a blanket over her shoulders without speaking a word. Irina smiled shyly at Sten and got up while holding the blanket around her neck to cover her chest. She strode quickly towards a large tree where Leliana was waiting for her while holding a dry shirt in her hand. When Irina arrived at her level, Leliana just exclaimed an annoyed “Men are hopeless! Are you alright?”. Irina nodded, removing the blanket and then removing the wet shirt from her torso, she put on the dry shirt instead. Once Irina changed into dry clothes, she bent forward and shook the wetness out of her hair with a frisk brushing of her hands through her scalp. Once finished and satisfied with her semi dried hair, Irina stood again, looked at the small group and listened to the sounds of the forrest. Ah! There was a smell she would recognise everywhere, freshly skinned Dalish leather. Smiling to herself, Irina was pleased, her plan had worked, she had preferred to let the clan find them instead of marching directly towards their camp by letting them observe that they didn’t pose any threat or that they weren’t menacing the forrest.

Getting near the water again, Irina placed her hands on each side of her mouth to amplify her voice, “Idiots! We’re leaving in an hour, be ready to depart before that!”, her message was clearly directed at Zevran and Alistair. The idiots in question were swimming not too far from each other. The Antivan elf approached Alistair in the waters, with the intention to speak to his companion. Alistair spoke first.

“Zevran, I know you’re not the same type as elf as Irina, but why is she behaving like this? I mean, she barely speak any word to us and just call us idiots.”

“Ah my dear friend Alistair, I know you are not familiar with the complexities of the female mind but I do believe your fellow Warden is mourning someone.”

“Well, our leader and mentor Duncan passed away violently when we met. It’s been hard for both of us.”

“Mmmm I think it may be more than that. In my experience, she may be mourning a lover. Alas, I was hoping she would chose me to warm up her bedroll and…” — Alistair felt his rage built up inside and couldn’t help himself from smacking Zevran in the back of the head, “Irina isn’t like that! She’s…not like the other women you’ve misled!” — Rubbing the spot where Alistair hit him, Zevran declared in a sigh “Ha! But I was just jesting with you my good friend Alistair, I am intrigued, it is true but I would not force myself on our fierce leader. And I feel I would do you a disservice by not telling you about the nature of women. These women you said, have not been misled; some women need the comfort and care of a man or woman from time to time. It is not shocking, it is all in the flavours of one’s mind.” 

“This might be. At any rate, we should be going back now. Leliana will start imagining things.”

 

Alistair and Zevran exited the cold waters of the pool, feeling refreshed, drying themselves with linen towels then proceeded to walk back towards the group in silence, Alistair staring at his feet, lost in his thoughts. Once he reached Leliana, he gave her a timid smile and cleared his throat, “Say Leliana, you are female, right?”

“Really? When did this happen?” answered Leliana with an amused smirk.

“No, I mean, yes, of course you are. I wanted to ask you something…” continued Alistair, half mumbling his words. “I…what if I found someone special and I wanted to comfort them or make them know they are important, what…what should I do?” Alistair lifted his head and attempted a hopeful look at Leliana.

“Ooh Alistair, I am truly flattered, but I thought that you and Zevran were intimate by now, I am sure he knows you like him,” Leliana grinned at Alistair, cocking her eyebrow at him. 

“What?? Zevran!? Maker! No no no! I meant, someone else! You women!” Alistair stormed off and head to his pack, grumbling and annoyed. Zevran who observed the scene started to cackle, his ribs hurting under the hilarious situation, after calming slightly, he walked towards Leliana and wrapped his arm around her shoulders and stood there exclaiming,

“Ah my dear Leliana, I fear you might have just reduced our friend Alistair to silence for the incoming weeks. He might even deprive us of his famous breakfast stew as a mean of revenge!” 

“Ebasit atassh!” exclaimed Sten raising his hands up in the air, attempting an awkward smile at his travelling companions. Zevran gasped in surprise, poking softly Leliana, “Sten… smiled! He …smiled at us! Doom is upon us!” gasped the elf with a fake impression of terror, Leliana on the other hand was pleased “Ooh I think it is charming! You should do it more often Sten!”. 

 

Morrigan had glimpsed some fragment of the scene and made a little sound showing her disgust at those displays of emotions. Then looking at Irina, she pointed at the laughing group, asking “And you, my friend? Are you also one of those laughing fools?”. Irina shrugged, and uncertainly answered “I am not sure who I am anymore; I think…no, I know I am still searching”. Morrigan nodded, somewhat satisfied by the Dalish woman’s answer, “And about searching, we should make sure we have enough poultices and salves before we venture further into the forrest.”

Irina knew that this was the moment she should warn the witch about the Dalish to do not make mentions of Flemeth, or that she’d rather Morrigan be silent considering her lack of respect for other people’s customs. Irina frowned under the turmoil of which diplomatic words she would chose to address Morrigan without unleashing a torrent of icy insults. 

“Morrigan, I would like to ask something of you, it might seem strange but I think it will play to our advantage. The clan we are visiting is a friendly clan but their attitude might be strange to you and I am not sure of the welcome we shall receive, can I trust you to silently observe while I try to find the best course of action. I might be too distracted to notice subtle changes but you will,” Irina spoke in a calm and steady voice, trying not to betray her nervousness.

“Tis’ a sensible request. I will notify you if something is worthy of our attention.”

Irina felt a sigh relief coming but tried to repress it so the witch wouldn’t know how the request had been the fruit of a long thinking process.

 

A while later, the group had resumed their travel to the Dalish camp, except that Irina never had the intention to reach the camp, she’d rather meet the sentinels on the outskirts than bringing humans and a mabari to the camp, which would probably worry, maybe even anger some of her fellow Dalish. Irina was leading the group on the clear path of the forrest, letting her companions chat behind her, just making sure her face and armour were visible to the possible sentinels who were already observing or at least tracking them through the woods. As expected, at the turn of the path, the group came to face with three Dalish elves, one warrior and two hunters.

“Andaran atishan sister! I see you travel in strange company. What brings you to us? asked the female warrior.

“Aneth ara lethallan, I am Irina, daughter of Mahariel, of the Sabrae clan. I have come to seek an audience with your Keeper Zathrian on behalf of the Grey Wardens. These are my companions. They have been instructed into the behaviour they should adopt while visiting your clan.”

“Mahariel? Irina!! Master Varathorn will be so pleased to you! I will let your companions pass since you are vouching for them but we will still keep an eye on them. There is an evil…”, the female warrior was stopped short by her fellow hunter.

“Mira! Hush!” interrupted the male hunter behind the female warrior. “Sorry, lethallan, but this is not for us to discuss this, it is better that you talk to the Keeper. You may pass.”

The two hunters moved to the side of the path to let the group pass in front of them, and walked behind them as a mean of escorting them towards the camp, while the one named Mira walked alongside Irina and chatted her in a swift and light Dalish dialect. 

The Dalish clan elves looked to the strangers coming towards them and most of them recognised Irina from the last meeting of clans, the Arlathvhen, although she was now an adult and she was a child back then, but they had all been surprised on how she was taking after her father’s personality. Even her pale skin and ash blonde hair had been her father’s, the only thing that really recalled her mother were her eyes, those particular grey eyes that none in the Sabrae clan had. Her parents story was as sad as tragic but people were always cautious around her and tried not to talk about it, and she had grown accustomed to the caution they exerted. Although she did question Ashalle when she was younger, wishing to understand why people never mentioned her parents or why Marethari had treated her differently than the other younglings. Her father had been a fair and just Keeper, encouraging crafting and survival of his Clan, and was truly dedicated to the preservation of elvish traditions, until the day he met Irina’s mother. She was from another clan, they had met at an Arlathvhen and fell in love nearly as soon as they met. She was a fierce and beautiful woman, but when her husband died, sorrow had filled her heart, and disappeared shortly after the birth of Irina never to be seen again. Fact that left Irina bitter and envious at times when she was a child, but Ashalle had been like a mother to her and her best friends, Tamlen, Merrill and Fenarel were the siblings she had chosen as her own family. 

All those fond childhood memories resurfaced once Irina saw the aravels and the hallas, the children sitting next to the fire talking to a hahren, and slightly further in the encampment was a sight that warmed her heart. Master Varathorn. He had been one of her father’s best friend, he was a man dedicated to the preservation of Dalish crafting of armour and weapons, bearing proudly the vallaslin of June. If they were such a tradition of godparents among the Dalish like in the human Chantry, Varathorn would have been that man for Irina. She wanted to run to him and embrace him, but she remembered she was there for a more pressing purpose. Irina took a moment to introduce her companions to Zathrian and his first Lanaya, a svelte blonde woman bearing a Mythal vallaslin. After the proper presentations and reasons of their presence were announced, Zathrian asked to see Irina later for an urgent matter but encouraged her to rest before adventuring further into the Brecilian Forrest. The little group had planted their tent slightly outside the Dalish encampment, nearer to the lake where the halla herd was kept, as to not antagonise or cause fear among the welcoming elves. 

The older man was talking to a younger one, who appeared to be his apprentice. The years hadn’t been kind on the man that Irina saw as a second father, his clan wasn’t faring so well with the constant moving around; the Blight and its fast spreading corruption was wearing her kin folk down too. Irina approached the older man, with caution, a timid smile on her face, hoping he would recognise her and embrace her as he had always done. 

“Master Varathorn?” inquired Irina in a low, near child voice.

“Yes dal’en, how can I help you? — Varathorn opened wide eyes and his mouth gasped in surprise. Dropping his carving tool on the bench near him, he hurried to go around the table. Once he stood in front of Irina, he wrapped his arms around her and pressed her head against his chest, gently caressing her head, “Ir abelas da’len. Dareth ma falon”. Varathorn held her for a while and Irina enjoyed the safety and comfort of those familiar warm arms around her. “Da’len, last week, a messenger brought a letter for you written in shem’len, so I knew you would be coming but I did not dare to hope, so I haven’t told the Keeper. My heart feels great joy from seeing you alive. You should talk to Zathrian as soon as possible, it is not safe for you stay in the camp and I cannot take you away now, and you know that I would do anything to keep you safe. Mythal knows I promised your father to always watch over you.”

“Ma nuvenin,” answered Irina as she took the letter from Varathorn’s hand. “I will read this message then visit the Keeper, I trust we can share food later tonight?” — “Of course, da’len, I will be happy to. Dareth shiral da’vhenan.”

Walking away from the aravels, Irina chose a tree with large branches to read her letter in peace, she climbed high enough until she felt she was away from prying eyes. She rested her back again the trunk of the tree, and delicately broke the red wax seal bearing a TG emblem on it. Irina smiled at the wax seal. She realised that the envelope contained many small messages inside. 

 

_My dear Lady Mahariel,_

_I hope you do not find me too bold in addressing these words to you. I wish once more to convey you my eternal gratitude for saving the village of Redcliffe. My brother’s condition is stable and my nephew seems to have no recollection of the tragic events you put an end to._

_Before your departure, you expressed the doubt you had about the legitimacy of your quest. I cannot imagine how such a task could be given to any mortal, but if anyone has the power to save this land against the ravages of the Blight then it surely is you. I, unlike you, have no doubt about your abilities and courage. I am in awe of your presence. Your actions have opened my eyes about a great many things upon which I have decided to act. I shall inform you of my progress when time allows. In waiting, I pray that your Creators will keep you safe and my Maker will watch over you._

_I remain, my dear Lady, your humble admirer,_

_Bann Teagan Guerrin_

 

 

_My Lady Irina Mahariel,_

_Once again, I have failed at my best advice. I have wanted to write you for days but I told myself that I should adopt a composed and poised attitude towards you, yet, your face has inspired me to paint again. I suppose I have never told you about this. When I was child, my parents died, my brother Eamon and I were then raised by our aunt Thalia, who lived in Ansburg in the Free Marches. I returned there every year even after I had left to help my brother in Redcliffe and assumed the Bannorn of Rainesfere. My aunt was a kind and generous woman, she encouraged me to find an outlet to express my emotions, knowing that my political life would not be forgiving if I had let my frustrations take over. I expressed then an interest in art. I had to put down my pencils down once I became a bann. However your actions, only qualified as legendary, have inspired to take them up and paint. Maybe one day, my skills will be profuse enough to attempt fixating your beauty onto a portrait. I should cherish this opportunity. May the protector, Mythal, watch over you._

_I remain, my dear Lady, your humble admirer,_

_Bann Teagan Guerrin_

 

 

_Irina,_

_My brother’s condition has been declining drastically over the last few days. Jowan can no longer held him stable, despite his attempts, even through the recourse of blood magic. I know this sounds absolutely ridiculous, but if you happen to be in the southern Frostbacks, would you locate the village of Haven? This is the last trace we’ve heard of this Brother Genitivi. I haven’t heard from you in so long, I hope you are safe._

_T.G_

 

“Well, the language quickly escalated, he must be desperate. Poor Teagan. I should write him soon,” thought Irina, folding the letters again and putting them back safely into the envelope that she placed in the inner pocket of her leather mantle. Another message, blank this time laid inside the envelope. “He thought he would spare me the time to find another blank page to write him. Thoughtful”, and as so, Irina, took the thin piece of charcoal she had in her pocket and wrote a short message that she would drop at the closest human trade post she would find. 

 

_Dear T._

_I am safe, Alistair too. Have reached Dalish camp in Brecilian. Will get to Haven as soon as possible. Will think on portrait. Will write longer when I can._

_May your Maker protect you and your loved ones._

_May Sylaise keep your brother safe._

I.

 

Irina looked at her message. It was short and to the point. Maybe abrupt but she couldn’t get into the details of her mission right now. She had to find out why an entire clan would refuse to elaborate on their problems to a relative specially when in dire need of help.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> da'len: young one, little one  
> dareth shiral: safe journey  
> vhenan: heart  
> ir abelas: i am sorry (full of sorrow)  
> falon: friend/guide  
> Andaran atishan: welcome (welcome to this place that I call my own)  
> aneth ara: greetings as customary between dalish


	6. Aval'var vir Banal'ras: Our Journey to the Shadows

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alistair has a surprising dream, the little group enjoys Dalish hospitality and Irina is going through hell and back...again.

“Yes! Oh Maker, yes! I have never felt anything like this before! Please… oh Maker! This is amazing. You are…so beautiful, I am so lucky that you would choose me…Keep going, please!” Alistair panted as he was laying down, sweating and moaning, gripping the side of his bedroll as he felt his entire body tensing up. He didn’t know where to place his hands, didn’t know which god to invoke, this moment was so perfect, he had dreamt about it for so long.

“As you desire my prince,” whispered Irina in his ear while flicking his earlobe with her soft tongue. She deposited light kisses alongside his jawline, while her hands were resting on his strong chest, her hips undulating over him, swaying up and down, bringing him over the edge. Alistair was looking at her like he worshipped her, her face abandoned to desire, the flush of her cheeks, her hard nipples, she felt so warm and tight around his length.

“You are driving me crazy!” at these words, Alistair rose and grabbed her hips while letting her chest lay down between his legs. She was so beautiful with the glistening sweat over her forehead, the candlelight reflecting in her golden hair, her chest heaving under the exertion. He extended an arm to caress her soft skin from the neck to her clitoris, cupping her breast, twisting her nipple, causing her to twitch and clench over him. The intensity was too much, he knew he was about to come. His breathing accelerated, the pull was too strong, “Irina, oh my heart, you are too gorgeous, you are so good, I am… coming…,” he pushed one more time inside her, as deep as he could, filling her to the hilt of his length, deeply nested inside her, he spent himself with a loud growl. Alistair just laid there, a happy smile on his face. Damn the Blight, he was so happy, he wanted this moment to last forever. He closed his eyes to savour the blissful feeling; turning only his head when he felt a warm viscous sensation on his right shoulder thinking that Irina was already falling asleep, drooling over him. He wrapped his arm around her to keep her close to his skin, feeling her warm breath, her…foul breath. 

Alistair, intrigued, opened his eyes, but it was not Irina laying in his arms, it was that cuddly, fluffy but sadly very smelly and drooling Mabari that had been imprinted onto Irina at Ostagar. The dog had taken the habit of sneaking into Alistair’s tent during the night and Alistair would wake up beside the animal in the mornings. Another dream. Another delightful and sensual dream. It had been a few nights that this dream had been recurring and it was slowly driving Alistair insane. Life in the Chantry did not provide for much exploration and experimentation with the opposite sex, even less about young Dalish women who were wild and reserved. He had tried over the last days to get closer to her, by asking her questions and telling her about his life growing up an orphan, with just the Arl of Redcliffe that had taken pity on him, then his growing up in the Chantry to become a templar. She had listened to him politely and attentively but never took any hints he had attempted at flirting. She barely answered his questions whenever he tried to make her talk about her life among her clan, yet she would engage him in intense training sessions or would sing happily with Leliana, learning human songs and teaching elvish songs. Everybody in the group seem to like Irina but no one had really much to say about her either. They all agreed that she was friendly enough and was doing a great job about being a leader, yet none could say that she was kind or annoying, funny or cynical. This overwhelming measure of just “in-between”, “just right” felt so superficial to Alistair. For him, Irina was hiding something, it had to be something very painful for her to always keep her distance. He wasn’t sure about love per say, he liked her a lot and he was very attracted to her, but love seem something intangible and impossible in this Blight. And certainly not something to hope for. He knew he was at a disadvantage being a human and her Dalish, yet she was the first woman who had taken the time to listen to him when he felt low or when he was making a fool of himself, she even had surprised him by buying cheese from merchants along the road knowing it would please him, but then again, she had bought ribbons for Leliana, and had crafted Dalish leather gloves for Zevran. He was unsure of how Irina thought of him and as long as he remained into the uncertainty, he would keep on having those dreams. In a way, Alistair preferred to dream of an illusion rather than seeing it shattered before it took form. The dream and the mabari had left him with a queasy stench so he decided to head to the small lake near the Dalish camp to wash off the smell and clear up his mind. As he exited his tent, he noticed the sunlight was barely piercing through the trees, the early morning hour had covered the tent with a fresh layer of dew. Barefooted and wearing only his breeches, Alistair headed towards the lake carrying a fresh shirt to change into with his left hand. As he was walking down the small path between the trees past the herd of hallas, he noticed that Irina was already up.

She was gracefully walking along the shore of the lake, picking up spindleweeds and dawn lotuses. He observed her for a few seconds, unable to move forward or backwards, just staring at her kneeling down, cutting herbs in silence, delicately pressing the lotuses in the pockets of her short white tunic. Feeling the intensity of his gaze, Irina looked at him in silence, just standing still beside the water, in the pale light of the morning. She didn’t divert her eyes from him. Alistair slowly started to walk again towards the lake. Irina was stepping lightly on the grass, as if gliding when she reached him. He looked at her face, her eyes, those eyes colour of the rain. She was looking back at him in the silence of the hour. She raised a hand to cup his cheek, slowly caressing his cheekbone with her thumb. Softly she rose upon her toes and pressed a light and tender kiss upon his lips. Her kiss barely touched his skin, but was so fresh, it made him tremble to his core. As her lips withdrew, she simply whispered to him “I know,” and left him standing by the water as gracefully and slowly as she had previously moved herself.

Alistair knelt by the shore and contemplated his reflection in the still waters, she has kissed him. Not passionately, not like a brother or by pity either. It was so pure but so nerve wrecking at the same time. What did she know? That he wanted her? That he desired her? That she was on his mind at all times? That he maybe loved her? The questions were multiplying as soon as he thought them in his mind. He knew she wasn’t the kind of woman to lead him astray or mislead him but her kiss was not a promise of a future nor was it the negation of one either. She had looked so pale, almost as if she was a ghost. No wonder after how much blood she had lost. He remembered carrying her frail lifeless body from the fight against the ogre. He was bleeding as well, not letting Wynne heal him, just yelling for help, she laid there with her stomach and legs bloodied, her face white as porcelain, her eyes half opened aspiring the cloudy skies. Morrigan had not laughed at him or mocked him, she had gently put her hand on his shoulder to calm him down while she helped Wynne healing Irina. After what felt like hours, Irina had coughed up blood but her breathing regulated, her wounds had closed up and the bleeding had ceased. Sten had carried Irina carefully to Morrigan’s tent who had watched over her closely for any signs of distress.

Irina had been unconscious for two days, only Zathrian coming in and out of the tent exchanging worried looks with Morrigan had been an indication of time. This precise morning was the first time Alistair had seen Irina in two days. He shook his head retrospectively at the idea that he probably should have asked about her health or if she had recovered or if he could help, but no, he just had stood there staring at her, not saying a word. So was the kiss her way to say thank you for helping her out after the fight? The confusion made his head spin. Alistair remained on the position, on his knees contemplating his reflection and thinking for so long that he didn’t realise his body had gotten cold or that other people were now wandering about in the encampment. 

“Are you watching the grass grow, Alistair?” asked Leliana with a smirk. 

“No no, it is obvious that he is admiring himself!” added Zevran.

“Are you alright young man?” Wynne bent slightly so she could look at him properly.

Alistair shook in surprise, annoyed to be caught in his thoughts when he was half naked, he shouted a loud “I am washing myself, is that so strange to you people?”. He splashed some water on his face, got up and walked back to his tent now deserted by the Mabari. 

Once he entered the tent, he threw his shirt onto his bedroll and sat down beside it. Taking his head between his hands, he tried to gather his thought so he would behave reasonably next time he would be facing her. Her head cocked at an unnatural angle while the ogre clenched his fist around her chest, a gash of blood escaping her mouth, her eyes revulsed in the back of her head, her bones crunching under the massive fist of the beast; flashes of the gory and grotesque scene came to Alistair’s mind. Once she lost consciousness, the beast just dropped her on the ground like a rock. Alistair had felt a surge of rage taking over, he had leapt over the ogre, raising his blade and plunging it into the beast’s chest while Morrigan had run to shield Irina’s body and Zevran was just decapitating the last genlock. Her leather’s armour was drenched in blood, she looked like a dislocated and disjointed puppet, just laying broken on the ground. How could anyone survive this? However, despite all expectations, she had survived. 

 

*************************************************************************************************

Morrigan had been sitting on a pile of pillows and blankets while reading the grimoire Irina had retrieved from the Kinloch Hold. She was watching over Irina sleeping. Every now and then, she would feel the pulse of the elf or assure herself that her friend was breathing, she would press a fresh linen cloth on the forehead of her patient. Eventually Morrigan succumbed to sleep, which was when Irina awoke as in a dream, she had left the tent barefoot and wandered about the camp. She felt the fresh breeze of the morning on her face but her body felt so light, her skin a mere cloth of gauze moving fluidly across the grass. Her feet stopped when she reached the lake. She had knelt beside the water, removed her short tunic then entered the water. The contact on her skin felt purifying, she needed to clean her body from the impurity of the darkspawn. Her mind was in shambles, her body that had been broken had been brought back to life once again, and this time…This time, she wasn’t thankful. No, she was angry and empty at the same time. She had been dead, she knew it. Her entire being felt different, even the way she perceived her surroundings. After she was done with her ablutions, she passed her cotton tunic over her head, draping her body; it didn’t cover her entire body, any type of clothing felt constricting. She gracefully and slowly paced around the lake, picking a flower here and there. She had seen Alistair approach, she feigned not seeing him, she let him watch her. She had heard his screams when the ogre had taken her in his grasp, she heard his plea in the beyond when she had been surrounded by darkness. However she also felt that his friendly affections towards her had been replaced by desire. He did not just desire her body, he desired her entire heart and soul; she was not free to offer her affections. Her heart was prisoner of the past, she didn’t know if she would ever love again. Zevran had came to her discretely during their first night in the Brecilian forrest, he tactfully offered to share his tent with her, he did not promise love, he promised he would make her feel good and relaxed. She had blushed and chuckled, politely declining his offer while squeezing his hand, she knew he was offering a kindness, he was not being lewd. Zevran had not been insulted by her refusal, he smiled at her and joked that he would go and take his chances with Leliana, who had also refused but happily accepted to dance around the fire to the sound of Dalish luth and flute. That night, Irina has crawled in her bedroll, laying her hand on her lower belly, “There, there, little one, do not fret, nobody will disturb you. Sleep ma’len, your mamae is watching over you.” 

Cradling the little life growing inside her, Irina fell asleep peacefully dreaming of holding her little baby and raising her or him with her Clan, Fenarel would be a great uncle. 

 

*********************************************************************************************************

Leliana was sitting next to the hahren in the clan, learning the song about Uthenera, vocalising alongside the note. Zevran was exchanging daggers and attack techniques wth the hunters of the clan, Wynne was helping Lanaya in her aiding of the wounded in the camp, Zathrian had retired to his tent. Alistair had been sitting next to Sten, both watching the mabari rolling and playing around with the younglings of the camp. 

Away from the camp, Morrigan sat beside Irina, she might not had any humanoid friends before Irina but she realised that her friend was going through something difficult and she was unsure on how to say the words properly, without losing her friendship. 

“Irina…My friend, I have something to tell you. ’tis not an easy task but…,” attempted Morrigan.

“I know, Morrigan. I can feel its presence no more. I lost the child. My health is back but a part of me is gone. I thank you for your silence and your care. I…I wish you did not bring be back from the Beyond, I was almost in the soft light of the Creators, I…I…,” Irina got up and yelled at the top of her lungs, “Why?! Why?! What have I done to deserve this? My love, my baby…! Why can’t I keep the people I love?” Irina fell to her knees, her face covered in tears, her body shaken by deep sobs,her mouth mumbling inaudible words.

Morrigan knelt beside Irina, wrapping her arms around the frail body, “Oh my friend, you have suffered much and yet you endure, a part of you still lingers in this world because your soul is strong, the blood of your ancestors has power, and that power has meaning. I do not know the reason of you remaining but surely, your survival has a purpose. It behooves you to find this purpose and embrace it.”

For some reason, the words of the witch made sense, if the Creators had refused to take her soul, it might have been for a reason. She could make this a new goal, finding that precise purpose.

With the back of her sleeve, Irina wiped the tears from her face, ran her fingers through her hair and stood up when Morrigan lent her a hand. Irina was giving Morrigan a slight smile when a voice called behind them, “Morrigan! Irina! Come at once, another hunter has been wounded in the forrest, it looks bad… Zathrian got very angry and left for the forrest alone. He started mumbling something about an ancient curse and old ruins, that enough was enough and he just left, the rest of the clan seems to be quite panicked despite Lanaya’s effort to keep people calm,” Leliana was out of breath, she clearly looked distressed. 

Within the hour, Irina had gathered her group and left Wynne and Sten in charge of assistance and helping to protect the clan. Alistair, Morrigan, Leliana and Irina entered the elven ruins deep within the Brecilian forrest. There was a foul stench of death, moss and vines were covering the inside of the ruins, cobwebs at the arches of corridors and chipped tiled stones were completing the portrait of what was facing them. Irina moulded herself to the shadows, moving in silence, she stepped carefully ahead of the group searching for traps or hidden passages. Alistair had risen his shield to block any incoming blows and Morrigan had provided the group with a protection sortilege that gave their skin an alabaster glow. If those two were usually bickering, they put their differences aside during combat, ready to render aid at any moment. The group made good progress for a while until they heard a loud rumble over their head, a large stone dropped from the ceiling in front of them crashing onto the floor making a deflagrating sound. 

 

“Phew! That was close…now guys, you should always watch out for…,” Alistair didn’t finish his sentence, he did not see the blow coming to his head.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ma'len : little one, child  
> Mamae: mother, mom, mum, mamma


End file.
